


Glutton For You

by jingyeomficfest



Series: Jingyeom Fic Exchange 2018 [3]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Kisses, Light Angst, M/M, hungry drunk behavior, nonconsexual dream sex, sleep paralysis explained via demon, timeline jumps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-21 23:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17651507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jingyeomficfest/pseuds/jingyeomficfest
Summary: Jinyoung is a glutton.  Yugyeom happens to be his favorite meal.





	Glutton For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StryderMel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StryderMel/gifts).



> The dates are just approximations. I can’t really remember when GOT7 did what but I wasn’t sure the jumps in timeline would be understandable otherwise. 
> 
> I hope the recepient likes it, though i think I only vaguely went with the prompt. 
> 
> Also, if there are references to other fanfics and works, yes I happened to 'steal like an artist'. I'm sorry I didn't reference you all, i'll try and collect the sources so I can post reveal!

_ June 2018 _

Jinyoung doesn’t dream.  What he does instead, it’s nothing like this.  He stares at the sketches for the music video they’re planning, and thumbs through them silently.  There’s already a ruckus starting at the other end of the conference table, the sound of papers being shuffled through at various speeds.

“Woah, this really works out.  I want my life to be a party with others, but at the same time, I dream of wanting to be alone with my own, peaceful thoughts.  That’s kind of deep, right?”

Mark utters a droll, “More like you off in the desert makes it peaceful for the rest of us.”

“Why am I hallucinating toys flying around?” Youngjae mutters, puzzled.  He’s cut off.

“It suits you though.  The only ones that are really weird are like Gyeomie dancing in a dark subway and Jaebeom hyung feeling himself out in a forest and ending up in space.  Maybe he’s tripping? Maybe you’re tripping? Maybe we’re all tripping?” Bambam questions over the yellow tinted glasses he has perched low on his nose.

“It’s not that weird,” comes a high pitched voice at the same time. 

Jinyoung looks up at that, words coming to his mouth as he interjects.  “Yeah, what’s weird about it?” Yugyeom squints at him in suspicion, waiting for the rest of it to drop because Jinyoung doesn’t just support him out of the kindness of his heart.  “You dance everywhere like you’re out of your mind. It makes sense for you to be dancing inappropriately while waiting for a train.”

“That’s so true,” Jackson teasingly agrees. 

“Hey!”  Yugyeom is pouting, lower lip jutting out and Jinyoung smiles at it fondly before looking down again.  He looks at the sketch of himself in a car, the continuation from his planned solo video. To be in a world where magic was normal, where cars could fly and creatures could be studied and characterized in a book.  He smiles wistfully. It was a nice childhood dream, and one he wouldn’t mind experiencing for a change.

\--

_ December 2018 _

His eyes close, and his vision expands.  The dorm is quiet now, empty and devoid of any presence after everyone’s moved out.  He has to wander further nowadays to find what he’s looking for. He moves downwards, until he finds a dream tinged with red, beckoning to him, and slips in.  A woman is on the couch, watching TV and the surroundings are familiar to the setup of his own apartment. Probably the flat right downstairs.

She’s rubbing herself thoughtlessly through her pajama bottoms, fingers stroking intimately.  Jinyoung hums, and it’s easy for his presence to be a drug, to change the scenery without the dream collapsing.  His arms are warm around her as he unbuttons her shirt, revealing the swell of breasts before he slips it offer shoulders.  He prods a little, and the curtains unravel, light streaming in and instead of the peaceful emptiness outside of their apartment, there are suddenly too many buildings close by.  He bristles uncomfortably with the exhibitionism but it’s her dream, her desires, not his, as the empty balconies and windows seem to indicate eyes that can look in at any time. (It skims too close to a nightmare for him, but she doesn’t know better.)  

Her pajama pants disappear and then her fingers into herself, light breaths turning heavy.  Jinyoung bends down, and he whispers suggestions that soon take form. A person conjures, someone made from her memories and dreams, young, fit, handsome, maybe a bit too remarkably like Taecyeon hyung and her legs part further for his head to slip in between.  Jinyoung watches the scene he’s created, and the passion washes over him as moans ring out.

The dream burns red, and Jinyoung feasts.  

It isn’t enough though.  It will take at least two others, two more dreams optimally to drain before he’s full.  When he can leave the dreams he’s peeking into unchanged, when he doesn’t have to seduce and push strangers to the heights of ecstasy.

He wakes up in the morning, alone, and his skin crawls.  He feels sick but sated. It’s too much like too many nights of hookup emotionless sex weighing him down.  

He misses Yugyeom.

\--

_ January 2019 _

Yugyeom’s cooking, the sound of kitchenware and background music playing.  Jinyoung can imagine him dancing, hips shaking with every move in the warm kitchen.

He feels so cold, one hand in between his thighs for warmth while the other clutches at his phone.  The winter wind whips at his ears. They’re filming outdoors, a long break as they wait for lighting to set between the scenes to continue.

“Just watch, you’re going to set your new home on fire.”

There’s a scoff.  “I can make myself dinner just fine.  It’s not even that hard.”

“Jaebeom made ramen and nearly cut his finger off.”

“I’m not Jaebeom hyung.”

“You’re certainly less careful and dumber so you’ll definitely burn your house down.  Can’t you just order food?”

Yugyeom is rolling his eyes at him.  Jinyoung knows this. “I need to finish off all the food my mom bought before schedules start again.  She was so sad the last time she cleaned out my fridge and had to throw out everything.”

“Doesn’t Effn cook?”

“No, he’s totally useless in the kitchen.”  And Jinyoung shouldn’t be comparing himself, not when he’d barely cooked in the dorm either.  But he  _ can  _ cook is the difference, he reminded himself.

“Why don’t you turn your facetime on?” he complains.  “I’m sure you’re doing something wrong.”

There’s soft laughter.  “Just say you miss me and want to see my face, and go.”

Jinyoung pauses, fingers tightening on his phone.  The silence drags on long enough for a soft and questioning “Hyung?” to come through.

“I do miss you.”

“J-Jinyoung, I asked you—“

Even if it falters, there’s an edge to Yugyeom’s voice, the start of an argument Jinyoung doesn’t want. 

“I need to go, filming is starting up again.”

He hangs up, and sulks in his chair because this is all his fault.  

\--

_ June 2017 _

The summer heat burns.  There’s only so much hunger he can take.  His ears are pointing, growing, ridges appearing on the edges.  He’s been fed so well for so long that he’s forgotten how to go and hunt.  It’s his own fault for starving himself, for not overcoming his reservations and dipping into the dreams of strangers.  Tonight’s the night he needs to start before his features change beyond recognition, when the façade of humanity leaves his face.

He’s fading in and out as he stumbles home.  The dorm is empty, Youngjae, Jackson and Bambam having recently moved out.  Mark’s travelling with his friends, Jaebeom is still back in the studio where Jinyoung left him, finishing up the melody for the unit album and Yugyeom is--

Yugyeom is home?

“Hey hyung,” Yugyeom says, in pajamas with the scent of arousal thick on his skin.  Jinyoung can’t distinguish dreams and reality anymore, not when the red bleeds into his vision.  He jerks on the thin t-shirt and pulls Yugyeom into a kiss as usual. It’s lopsided and Jinyoung frowns – Yugyeom is taller than him of course but he can normally add a few inches in the dream.  He must be tired though. Stupid tall brat. Jinyoung stretches on his tiptoes, and concentrates on running his tongue over a lower lip. There’s a gasp and Yugyeom clings to him, weight falling as though his knees had given out.

Yes, just like that, Jinyoung murmurs without words.  He smirks against those lips and tightens his grip on the neck, teeth too sharp digging into a lower lip.  For a second, he considers biting through, blood thick and rich and—Yugyeom moans and Jinyoung’s thoughts scatter, too set on sucking his tongue and stroking the fire higher and higher.  There’s a better meal waiting.

Yugyeom’s radiating with lust.  He eats and eats until all that sexual energy is gone, until the passion in their liplock dims to soft exchanges of kisses, and there’s only physical energy left behind, and even behind that, the pulsing yellow life force that defines Yugyeom.  Jinyoung pulls himself away harshly. That way lies damnation worse than what he already is. 

He’s so sated and full.  It’s been forever and it’s Yugyeom he’s eating, of course, the too familiar taste.  Jinyoung clings to his familiarity, the people he’s known. It’s why he’s been starving for weeks, Jaebeom alone not enough to even be an appetizer, giving rise to a side to him he’s barely acquainted with.

Jinyoung blinks.  He must have miscalculated because he pulls away and what he thought was the fog of dream haze has cleared into sharp focus.  Pink has overtaken Yugyeom’s face, unlike the confidence he alludes in the dreamworld. He brings a hand up to his mouth, touching his own lips with shock.

It wasn’t a dream.  It’s not a dream. This is reality.  It’s real and it’s Yugyeom and—

“I need to go help Jaebeom,” he manages before turning and walking out of the door he’d just come through.  

Jinyoung curses himself as he walks back to the studio, energy thrumming under his skin.  He’s so lit up, a glutton fed to the full. He’d be up all night now. More than enough time to think about what he’s wrought.  

\--

_ 2009-11 _

It starts small.  Puberty begins to hit, and talk in the school locker rooms change from football games to how Nayoung’s chest is swelling or how good Jisoo looks in her shortening skirt that can’t keep up with her lengthening legs.  The room starts to reek, and he feels like he’s sensing feelings that are not his own. Jinyoung doesn’t understand. 

He tries to understand, between euphemisms in library books and how everyone talks about dreams that have them waking up to wet beds.  He doesn’t think what he feels is the same. It scares him, how his dreams don’t seem like his own, how clearly he feels awake as he drifts from dreamland to dreamland.

The busty neighbor who babysat Jinyoung looks at him on the street, asks if he’ll come over like usual to do his homework, and Jinyoung shudders remembering dreams of her and boys too young.  He refuses the snack. He never goes back to her place either.

Dance becomes a refuge, and Jinyoung is driven by dreams, his own tangible ones he knows belong to just him.  He doesn’t feel like himself otherwise, something in him clawing for things he can’t give.

He gets into JYP and it feels like salvation.  Until he gets into a room and realizes how many trainee boys are packed into the dorms.  It turns out to be a blessing in disguise. He doesn’t have to roam into the heads of neighbors, he slips into those of first acquaintances, then friends his own age.  It feels like blinds have been taken off his eyes, at all that he’s been missing this whole time. Jinyoung never goes hungry, his fuel now far too desperate boys.

It helps them in turn, he thinks when he eats away their sexual energy, and leaves them with nothing but fresh thoughts.  They are more focused in the studio, do better, can practice longer without the additional energy to distract them. Jinyoung picks the ones he’s working with for evaluations, and smiles under his breath when they win that week.

Jinyoung feels like a God doling out favors, controlling his own destiny.  

\--

_ July 2018 _

They get on the plane, and Yugyeom follows him to the seat beside him.  There’s too much space in the business class seats, but Yugyeom manages to press their calves against each other.  Jinyoung smiles under his mask, the ones Yugyeom despises, dragging them down and risking beard burn with abandon. Jinyoung hums, and pretends he’s reaching over to look at something on Yugyeom’s phone.   A hand lands on the younger’s thigh to balance himself, and he squeezes, fingers digging into the inner seam. Legs part too easily for a second before muscles clench down on his hand as if suddenly aware of their surroundings.

“I can’t wait till we get to our hotel room.  I’m going to ride you so hard,” he whispers with a smirk as he pulled away to an audible gulp.  The smell of arousal thickens, and it is so delicious. 

It’s easy to pass out with the comforting aura blanketing him.

\--

_ 2010 _

It’s not his fault he got attached to Yugyeom, Jinyoung rationalizes when he looks back at how things came to pass.  For all Yugyeom had admired him from, building him up as  _ the _ dance hyung since he joined the company, Jinyoung was lost the second he saw Yugyeom dance.  It shook him, ate at his confidence for someone so much younger than him to have all those skills.  Then Jaebeom, his friend as much as his rival, someone he looked up to as much as he wanted to tear him down,  _ someone he wanted- no, needed to be better than _ , paid attention to Yugyeom.  They danced together late in the practice room, Jaebeom b-boying and Yugyeom’s feet surfing the beat.  Jinyoung felt the jealousy claw up. While everyone respected Jaebeom, and Jaebeom could be friendly –as much as he could be mercurial, unforgiving, too good to not get his way, no one got his respect that easily in return.  When even Jinyoung had to struggle to get past those layers…

He made it a point to take Yugyeom under his wing.

It wasn’t hard.  He’d come in to the studio some days with dark circles and an aura that bade everyone to stay away.  The stress from the uncertainty of the trainee life, from friends leaving, made him snap sharper than he meant, and yet the boy melded, soft and sweet to his worries and temper.  Jinyoung could say anything, and Yugyeom would be there, listening. 

Something felt off though.  While everyone else flared up with arousal, awkward boners at their age being too familiar, he couldn’t feel Yugyeom at all.  There was some kind of cloud there that didn’t let him through. It set a side of him on edge. He just became used to it, he didn’t pay it any mind.  A mistake he’d have to fix one day. Only so much later, years later, after a drama and a debut and a show and a hiatus and then the idea of redebut and constant line-up changes – only then, after five sets of luggage showed up in Jaebeom’s and his house did Jinyoung understand what it had been all along.

\--

_ September 2017 _

Jinyoung’s in bed, reading.  They’re in LA now, shooting for the new upcoming album.  They’re sharing rooms on this trip, but the bed next to his is empty, Mark of course out with family and friends.  He’s pretty sure Bambam and Yugyeom have gone with him, while Jackson, Youngjae and Jaebeom are off on other plans.  He hadn’t been paying attention at dinner, energy dipping low and saying he’d be staying in.

Sleep doesn’t come to him though so that he can set free, roam dreams and recharge.  Jinyoung tries to tell himself it’s not because he’s missing a singular source of energy ever since he fucked up three months ago and had to keep to himself.  Thankfully promotions and a unit comeback were distracting enough, but now they were all back together, and Jinyoung has to actively ignore Yugyeom.

Or he could fess up but he wasn’t sure how he could justifiably say he was doing what he was accustomed to doing every night, kissing Yugyeom, falling into that body that opened up so easily for him.  Except that was in a different plane of existence.

The door clicked open, and Jinyoung lowered his book lightly, confused why Mark had returned.  Had he forgotten something? Except of course, it wasn’t him but Yugyeom. Jinyoung swallowed down the groan.  “Did you want something?” he asked, voice harsh.

“I gave you enough time,” he hears from across the room, that soft voice quiet and deceptively contained.

“Um, I said I was staying in clearly,” Jinyoung responds.  “If that’s all, you can go.” He pulls the book back up though the words swim in front of his eyes.

Yugyeom doesn’t leave.  “I thought maybe you needed time to yourself.  But at some point, you’d, you know, talk to me.”  Jinyoung has no clue what he’s talking about, and his hand shakes around his hold on the book.  He’s trying to concentrate so hard he doesn’t realize Yugyeom’s approaching him until the bed dips at his side and the book is pried out of his hands.  It flies across the room, and Jinyoung sits up. 

“What the fu—“  His words lose the cadence of Seoul, dip back into childhood and satoori.  And he realizes Yugyeom has thrown a leg over him, is sitting on him, thighs bracketing his.  He’s wearing those sleeveless, too deeply cut shirts he keeps wearing nowadays, flashing off dark ink and looking too damning.  Jinyoung’s the demon, but he feels Yugyeom could fit the part better. A hand comes up to his chest and pushes him down.

“W-What are you doing?”  Jinyoung feels the fight sink out of him, especially when his senses are returning two fold and a wave of restless energy hits him, tantalizes him.

“I thought we could talk.  But I think I just realized; talking is overrated with you.”

“Umm—“ Jinyoung gets no chance to formulate a response before lips seal over his and hands hold down his shoulders to keep him from interfering.  It only takes a few seconds before he’s melding into the kiss, shaking off hands holding him down to clutch at easily accessed warm skin, running his palms up and down that waist.  Yugyeom gasped around his tongue when his thumb flicked a nipple, groaned low into his mouth as their hips connected, rolling into each other, yelped, pulling away panting when Jinyoung’s hands found their way into those tight pants.

Yeah, Yugyeom was right.  Talking was overrated.

\--

_ December 2018 _

Yugyeom’s packing up his things, and Jinyoung sits on his bed, watches yet another member leave their nest to fly off.  He helps idly, he supposes. He refuses to get off the sheets until Yugyeom bodily pulls him off. Jinyoung rolls them until he’s got Yugyeom pinned, and melting to his touch and it manages to derail a better part of the day.  

It doesn’t stop time though so Jinyoung hangs on petulantly onto that broad back as rounds after rounds of laundry are done.  The room’s already bare, things disappearing at too quick a pace over the course of a month. It’s down to the barebones now, clothes and essentials.   He reluctantly helps Yugyeom bring down boxes to pile into the overloaded black car. It’s the last box, and a tremor builds up under his skin. Yugyeom suddenly claims he forgot his phone, and the goodbye is postponed, Jinyoung dragging his steps back to the dorm.  

It’s not even too long a goodbye.  Jinyoung can always go visit. 

The phone is found on the dryer and Yugyeom runs a hand through his head.  “Okay, so—“

“We’re alright, aren’t we?” Jinyoung interrupts him, winding arms around that slim body, face burying into soap clean skin.  He smiles contently at the bruised skin at the bend of the neck, courtesy of JInyoung in the shower they’d had to take earlier.

Yugyeom sighs, as though he’s resigned himself.  It bothers Jinyoung, leaves an itch under his skin.  “Yeah, yeah, we’re fine.”

Jinyoung relaxes into the hug.  It’s too soon.

“Why don’t you want to move in together?” Yugyeom asks, and the pain that he’s been trying hard to hide, that’s built up every time this year he’s asked Jinyoung and Jinyoung’s left the question unanswered and deferred or outright objected, wells up now.

Jinyoung’s arms droop, and he takes a step back to look up.  He doesn’t know how to answer. Not when it’s that he’d thought Yugyeom would stay regardless, not just rope someone else into staying with him.  He’s the one who feels betrayed even if it is Yugyeom’s right. A part of him wants to keep Yugyeom at his side at any cost. Another part knows he has to let go.

“It’s too soon,” he says, low.  There’s an immediate scoff, and Jinyoung flinches.

“A year and half, but I guess that means nothing.”  Cruelty doesn’t suit Yugyeom. Jinyoung rubs at a hipbone, trying to calm him down.  Yugyeom bats his hand away, steps away.

Jinyoung is tired.  “Stop it, Gyeom-ah.”  He pulls the boy close and wraps his arms around firmly.  

“Of course, it means everything.  But you don’t understand. You think you’re ready, but you’re not.  You have no idea—“

Yugyeom is pulling away from him and out of the room before he can finish his sentence.

\--

_ 2013 _

The dreamscape is different from reality.  There’s no defined form to it, a reflection of reality in a sense, in that there is dimension but no structure.  Jinyoung goes by feel, a sixth sense. He sees the bubbles of dreams forming, building, rumbling, dissipating and likens it to clouds.  They float to him sometimes, inviting and at other times, they drift away before he can grab on, accepting no passers-by. He doesn’t always slip into dreams to eat.  Sometimes, he wants to dream as well, even if it’s vicariously.

He knows Jaebeom’s dreams well, and Jaebeom’s mind accepts him easily nowadays.  It wasn’t always that way. He’s experienced many of Jaebeom’s dreams, and he’s fed on Jaebeom enough even if it’s left him uncomfortable during daylight hours when they’re left alone.  It had been hard to not have different food sources around him like in the trainee dorms. 

This time, Jaebeom’s dreaming of the beach, building sandcastles.  It’s a little Jaebeom, who only comes up to his knees but who defiantly asks the ajhusshi (Jinyoung reminds himself to not kick a child, even if the child is technically older than him) to get out of his way.  Jinyoung moves to a far enough distance, and watches Jaebeom tug his mother, her curls dancing in the sea wind to look at his kingdom by the sea. 

The dream turns in an instant.  Jinyoung’s staring out at the water and frowns as the waves break harder, the sky darkens and looks over to see a foot collapse the sandcastle.  It’s attached to a man, face turned away from him and he’s saying something, shaking Jaebeom’s mom’s arm and the frown on Jaebeom’s face gets darker as tears drip down his face.  Jinyoung wraps his arms around each other, the feelings seeping through. It’s too stark to be made up.  _ A memory. _  He knows better now why Jaebeom had his shields up for so long.  

An ice cream appears in his hand, and in the next second it flings itself by the magic of gravity in dreams and hits the man’s face hard, splattering everywhere.  An involuntary chuckle breaks out of Jaebeom who covers his mouth timidly. Jinyoung’s lips purse, and a dozen more ice cream cones attack the man who yelps and ducks and runs away.  Sunshine streams through as laughter echoes, and the sand castle rebuilds itself as time goes backward, grains of sand rearranging themselves. The dream blips and continues without any sign of an interruption.

There’s thunder though in the far distance, off in the horizon, and Jinyoung squints at it.  It doesn’t belong to Jaebeom, he senses, but something, no, someone is pushing their dream into Jaebeom’s.

Jinyoung gets up, and dusts himself from sand.  His shorts change into pants as he walks forth out of the dream.

_ HELP! _

The yell echoes in his head as he pushes the dream away from interrupting Jaebeom’s, wonders who was subconsciously seeking out their newly assigned leader already.  The dream blows out of his grasp and Jinyoung frowns. The process of elimination it is then. He finds Mark and Jackson first, asleep with vibrant and dull dreams respectively.  Odd compared to their personalities awake he supposes but moves forth. Youngjae’s is a feverish red, and a part of Jinyoung wants to duck in but he’s full and this is more pressing.  He moves forward and then comes to one he can’t get through. Bambam or Yugyeom, he registers, their room blocked to him. 

He can’t get his hands around the dream and it infuriates him as it slips through his fingers over and over again.   _ The dreams are my territory _ , he yells and tugs it towards him.

He never expects the answer:  _ this one is mine’s, _ it hisses.

The anger that runs through him is primal, nothing like the blip he’d felt at the specter that haunts Jaebeom’s dreams.  That was nothing but a human ghost. This is his own kind, and it’s in his territory, holding onto something it shouldn’t.

One moment he’s himself, and in another, he’s fury, primordial at his essence and he fights with nails, claws, teeth, horns.  He tears at the wall, the coating on the dream, separates what should be from what shouldn’t be. He’s torn and bleeding and only when he pins it down and wills it into a form, a snarl racking up his throat, does he see what it is.

It’s another demon, mouthless, lipless, earless, scales and feathers and—Jinyoung yells at it, shakes it, asks for a form he can understand.  Features shift and the face becomes recognizable features. Jinyoung blinks, and it looks like Bambam for an instant, a borrowed form, before it flattens into someone unrecognizable but humanesque.  Eyes lined in black, mouth thick and plush with darkened lips and black hair that sways in an invisible wind.

_ Who are you, _ he asks.  It’s not from around here, and yet it has a bite of familiarity.  As if Jinyoung’s been exposed to his fumes for far too long.

_ Dream-eater,  _ it calls him,  _ incubus, _ it hisses,  _ Lilu’s child _ , it groans,  _ trespasser, _ it yells.   _ My prey, mine, mine, Alû’s prey _ , it screams as it buckles in his grasp. 

Jinyoung looks up, and he sees a paralyzed form lying there, wooden.  He’d thought it was Bambam, bringing in a demon he’d gotten attached to him in some foreign land.  His heart twinges when he sees the sight. It’s Yugyeom instead. There’s tears running down that still face, eyes wide open but unblinking.   _ Help, help, help,  _ comes the whisper and Jinyoung knows now what had come harkening to Jaebeom’s spirit, and probably his own, he thinks, begging for them to save him.  

_ What did you to him _ , he questions, aura pressing down with a new heavy intensity.

_ The wicked Alû who covers man like a garment,  _ it laughs at him like nails on a chalkboard.   _ Who do you think I am. _

It has no humanity attached to it, Jinyoung realizes, repulsed.  It’s demon through and through, slime and sin, rot and grime. His claws dig into the throat and he speaks to it in a language it can understand.

_ I don’t care who you are but he’s mine now _ ,  _ you will let him go and never return. _

He presses threats and torture into the creature, driven by instincts he doesn’t understand until it whimpers out its agreement and he drives it away from his sight.

He finally gathers Yugyeom in his arms when he’s gone, the soft shaking form with endless tears.  His wings, bat-like but so soft on the inner layer surround them both as he comforts him.

_ It’s okay, you’re mine now.  He can’t have you again while I’m here.   _

It’s not an easily kept promise Jinyoung realizes soon after.  Yugyeom builds up his reservoirs without a demon constantly draining him every night.  Jinyoung isn’t sure what came first. Whether he’d always been like that, attracting a demon to him since before he was born, or if his body had adjusted to produce more to keep him alive.  He beams like a beacon, radiates energy that if Jinyoung doesn’t keep sucking down, attracts every demon in the vicinity. He’s a firehouse and burns too red, and irritates and draws his vision in daylight hours.

At nighttime though, Jinyoung finds himself an endless food source.

The demon, the  _ Alû, _ sneaks back in on days he’s away, its years of attachment to its prey, to Yugyeom, too strong a connection to break.  Jinyoung could care less, as he breaks it, tears it apart time after time. It was trespassing on what’s his now.

\--

_ November 2018 _

If it came down to it, Jinyoung would swear up and down he was tricked into it.  The same sheer shirt, the one teasing at skin underneath adorned him. 

“I was so surprised you agreed to this again,” the stylist mentioned, fixing his blazer with a belt.

“Shhh,” Jinyoung hissed, eyes darting around the temporarily set up changing room he’d commandeered for himself, away from the rest of the members.  The walls were just wood and didn’t prevent sound from travelling. “This is the last time. It’s for the fans,” he said in a huff that called for the discussion to be finalized.  “Don’t try it again,” he warned as she giggled. 

“It suits you though.  The fans are going to go crazy tonight.”

Jinyoung shuffled his feet.  Sure, the fans were one thing, but this was for someone else entirely.

He pulled the blazer close around himself as he exited, self-consciously winding his way back into the waiting room.  He had been the last to get ready, but Bambam was still getting a last coat of makeup dusted on, and another stylist of theirs was fiddling with tying something around Yugyeom’s neck.

Jinyoung willed him to look up.  Instead, a wolf whistle broke through the room, causing all eyes to turn in his direction.  Youngjae, the evil cause of his misfortune, laughed as his cheeks reddened in response as people looked him up and down.  Jinyoung would really prefer that he hadn’t felt the sudden uptick in the sexual tension in the room. It was bad enough when he showed any skin, but right now—

Anyway, there was one burning red hot wire, and Jinyoung looked over at eyes darkening behind light contacts, at the way Yugyeom shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  The stylist finished her work, and Jinyoung endured the gentle ribbing as he walked across and collapsed in the seat next to Yugyeom. When the attention finally shifted, he leaned into the arm that had come up around his waist.  “Like your early birthday present?” he whispered. His blazer shifted, nipple peaking out in clear view and Yugyeom’s breath stuttered. Jinyoung laughed as the wave of arousal hit him, face burying into the neck next to him as he curled into the younger’s side.  This was going to be one long night for the other.

Yugyeom made sure the shirt was in a state that couldn’t be returned to their stylists.

Good riddance.

\--

_ 2016 _

He’d stepped away for a second.  Jinyoung scowls at the chubby demon that’s latched onto Yugyeom’s leg, kicking it.  It flies into the air and scurries away. His foot grazes the shin through and Yugyeom looks up, eyes wide and mouth apart.  He doesn’t ask Jinyoung to stop bullying him, just looks at him reproachfully as blush is dusted on his cheeks.

He pulls an arm, and keeping his eyes locked with the younger in the mirror, bites down on skin.  Yugyeom yelps, mouth parting and red bleeding into his face to match his hair. The stylist reprimands him, offhandedly tells Jinyoung to get out of the way.  He doesn’t let go though, sucks at the skin, pulling the excess energy into himself.

Yugyeom tries to tug his arm back, as if he was a persistent dog.  It’s halfhearted though, and the aura that builds up belies his action.  Jinyoung huffs, sucks it down harder until he’s eaten it all to a manageable level.  He lets the arm drop and leaves Yugyeom with too hard breaths, the imprint of his teeth on his skin and soul.

It’s not the first or last time Jinyoung’s teeth find Yugyeom’s body, sinking in regardless of time, place or occasion.  Fans laugh at them so the management says nothing. And Yugyeom… Jinyoung just wishes he wasn’t burning for it.

_ \-- _

_ February 2019 _

Enough is enough.  They miss each together, even if it had been only two weeks.  Two weeks where Jinyoung had found him in dreams, even if not in person.  Yugyeom smiles at him in the airport, and Jinyoung smiles back. They’re amongst the other members, surrounded by fans, and anyway, they’ve missed each other too much, hips bumping in their close proximity, hands sliding down backs to guide each other the right way.

Yugyeom asks about his drama, and Jinyoung watches his eyes sparkle as he talks about the songs he’s been producing, the time he’s spent with his family.

Jinyoung loves him.  He’s an idiot. 

It’s amazing how quick the good feelings burn out.  They’re in the same room, of course. They’re promoting as three sub units, and their manager had just lazily marked them for the same rooms.  Mark and Bambam, Jaebeom and Youngjae, Jackson off in Thailand on his own schedule. 

Their proximity, the good feelings since they’d met up in the airport, his own stupid heart – it had all conspired against him and Jinyoung forgets, reaches out to kiss Yugyeom and gets pushed away.

The argument that follows is long, loud, harsh.

“Stop using me only when you feel like it,” Yugyeom screams.

Jinyoung’s had enough.  “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you.  I’m a sex demon. I can’t be with you!”

That’s not how he’s wanted his longest, deepest, darkest secret to ever come out.

There’s no pause to that statement.  “I know you’re a sex demon. So what does that mean?  I’m not enough for you?”

Jinyoung’s thrown back at that, flounders for words.  “Y-You know? How?”

An eyebrow is thrown up, a challenge of a smirk even if the edge of the mouth indicates unhappiness.  “I’ve been fucking you for the last year. If I didn’t know, who would?”

Oh.   _ Oh.   _ Not quite what Jinyoung had meant.  He waves his arms.

“No.  No. I mean I’m a  _ literal _ sex demon.  Like you know, angels and demons type.  You need to believe me. I feed on people’s sexual energy, u-usually through dreams when it’s not you.”

There’s a long dark moment of quiet.

“Fine.  I get it.”

There’s bitterness coating Yugyeom’s face and it’s so anticlimactic, it’s a hard pill to swallow.  

So Jinyoung lashes out.  “You don’t know anything to get it.”  Something is clawing up his chest, and he’d expected questions, disbelief, not this calm acceptance that he can’t scratch at.  Jinyoung panics.

“I said I get it.” 

Jinyoung hates it.  Hates that Yugyeom could  _ just get it _ , that he isn’t screaming for explanations.  “What do you get?”

“I get that you don’t want to be in a relationship with me.  That you’ll come up with these stupid lies for excuses. I-I tried hard this month, didn’t I?  I called you, I picked up your calls, I didn’t make things awkward at all. I didn’t want you to think rejecting me would fracture the group or anything.  And it won’t. So just tell me you don’t like me and stop this shit.” Yugyeom collapses on the edge of the bed, limbs drooping. His face drops into his hands, and Jinyoung can’t see him anymore.

Jinyoung stalls.  He wonders what it looks like from Yugyeom’s perspective.  It’s been less than two years to him, while Jinyoung’s memories of them stretch back six.  He can seek out Yugyeom’s dreams and find him when they’re apart, but Yugyeom can only call him or answer his calls to connect with him.

“You have this dream, where you come into my room and drop my things, one by one.  It’s so annoying, and you want me to stop you, hold you down and hit you, spank you to make you stop.”

Yugyeom freezes, because it’s not something they’ve done in reality, but Jinyoung’s experienced that dream far too many times to think Yugyeom has no recollection of it.

“That was the first time I ever—“  And Jinyoung needs to admit it. “You reacted so hard to it and it’s what I do, I consume sexual energy.  I need it to survive. That’s the first time I ate from you. I didn’t, I really didn’t want to corrupt you back then.  You were so much younger, but you kept burning up and I kept coming up in your dreams. I guess you had a crush on me back then, but you had dream me reacting all wrong.  I’d yell at you or push you away when I’d never do that in reality. I hated it so much that that was your subconscious thinking about me. So I started to slip into your dreams, and play me instead.”

It had been a slippery slope.  Jinyoung would be talking with Yugyeom, and a kiss would be pressed to his cheek, or they’d be dancing and Yugyeom would rub himself against him.  And Jinyoung had fallen in turn.

He sat down on the bed, pulling the hands away.  “You were a buffet when everyone else was carrots.  And you were mine.” A rumble rips through his chest, more there than he could begin to explain.  “And I said I’d protect you.” Jinyoung sat down on the bed, and he couldn’t help but reach out to stroke that face.  “You are mine,” he states, Yugyeom metaphorically dripping of him to show to any passing demon what they would have to deal with.  

“Show me then.”  Jinyoung looked up, and there was a furious sort of determination swimming around in Yugyeom’s eyes.  “You really believe in this so show me how you’re a demon then. Your horns, tail, whatever it takes.”

“I don’t have a tail,” Jinyoung’s eyes widened before his hand shot to his back.  Was that what the pain in his back was when he was hungry? He thought it was a back ache  _ but had he been growing a tail? _  “I don’t think I have a tail?”

“What kind of a useless demon has no tail?”

Jinyoung ignored that.  “Anyway I can’t show you.  I only grow out my demonic features when I haven’t fed on,” he waved his hands in general in Yugyeom’s direction.

“On me?”

“On sex!”  Then he winced.  “Usually it’s you.  I mean it’s always you in person, but sometimes s-since we’re not together physically, it’s through other people’s dreams.  Never in person. I-I wouldn’t do that to you.” It’s a quiet admission and Jinyoung wishes he didn’t feel like a cheater for his will to survive.

Yugyeom’s eyebrows shoot up.  “Is that why you can’t be with me only?  Because you need other people to eat too?”

“No, you’re good enough usually.  It’s just.” Jinyoung sighs. “I can’t fully control the demon side of me.  Either when I’m empty or too full. I--” there’s no easy way to say it, and Jinyoung groans.  It’s a surprise even Yugyeom is going along with him. Might as well get it all out. “The demon side of me really wants to mate you.”

Yugyeom blinked rapidly, and Jinyoung thinks he’s taking his time to comprehend but realization dawns with horror that Yugyeom is batting away tears.  The voice shakes when he speaks. “Okay. So you don’t want to be with me because you’d then really have to be with me? Wow, thanks then. Can you just leave?”

Jinyoung’s hands flutter uselessly at his sides.  “You actually want me to mate you? Wait, you’re okay with having a demon mate you?”  Jinyoung always knew Yugyeom had shit instincts. “It’s like a forever commitment to me.  I’d literally rip out anyone’s throat that touches you.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you made me think about, and if you’re an actual sex demon, only dream about you!  I’ve wanted you since I was fourteen!”

He stares stupefied as tears run down Yugyeom’s face.  “I only entered your dreams after you were sixteen.”

A blush dominates Yugyeom’s face.  Jinyoung’s mouth purses. “You also dreamt about other people.  I clearly remember dreams you had about your friends. Jungkook and who’s that tall one?  Mingyu? You even had dreams about Jaebeom hyung and Jackson. Those were really gross by the way.  You also dream about like every girl group member. Your thing for Joy was--” That had been a very tiring month when Jinyoung couldn’t interject himself into at the strength of the dream.  

Yugyeom’s gaping and a hand comes out and hits him.  “You’re not allowed to look into my dreams anymore!”

“You also get aroused when you talk to most women and men,” Jinyoung groused.  “Your type is far too fit and muscled people.” As if that didn’t remind him of his desire to suddenly get into the best shape of his life.  “So don’t act like I’m the only you dreamt about.”

“Okay, sure, I can get attracted to all those people but you’re the only one I actually lov—like,” he corrects quickly.  “Like a lot. A lot.” Jinyoung’s not sure the emphasis is needed, but he lets it warm his heart. 

“Anyway, so you’re saying you can sense all that?  Wait— is that why you know who all the idol couples always are?  So that’s how you always win! I can’t wait to tell Jacks--” 

“Ahh, don’t tell him that,” Jinyoung says quickly.  “Plus he still owes me a couple hundred won from our ongoing bets…”

Yugyeom laughs, and Jinyoung relaxes at his side, head drooping until he can rest it on a wide shoulder, arms circling the other’s stomach.  “I like you a lot, a lot too,” he whispers, putting enough pressure until they fall back into the mattress and Jinyoung can drape himself all over the other properly.  The soft sweaters Yugyeom likes to weak make for such a good pillow. A hand slips under to stroke Yugyeom’s skin.

“About the- um, the mating thing.  You’re really young. You have your whole life ahead of you, and if you change your mind—“ he gulps, and his fingers dig into skin.  “You can’t change your mind.”

Yugyeom pauses before he pulls his sweater up, and Jinyoung’s too confused by all the skin on show --the stark black of those tattoos on pale skin he wants to drag his tongue against—that he misses how Yugyeom grabs his hand and raises it up to his face.

“You have claws,” he states.  Jinyoung blinks before he drags his eyes off that chest and soft perky nipples over to his raised hand.  His nails have elongated, darkened, bent at the tip, ready to tear at flesh. Jinyoung swallows. “Oh yeah.”

Yugyeom turns until they’re facing each other.  “You didn’t say you didn’t have horns.”

Jinyoung licked at his lips, dry at the proximity and realizes Yugyeom might actually believe him.  “I’ve felt them once. I ate before they got too much worse, but it felt like goat horns. My ears grow out too, and they have this weird texture.  Oh, my stomach and chest get very hairy too. I really am a demon, I’m not lying to you.”

“Do you want to mate me?”

“Yes,” and Jinyoung’s bending forward to kiss, pressing kisses to those soft lips, around the mouth, the drag of the jaw.   “Yes, yes, yes. I’d mate you in a heartbeat, make you mine.”

Yugyeom pursed his lips, pushing at his chest, away from him.  Jinyoung prepares for the rejection he knew was coming. 

“So if you knew, why haven’t you spanked me yet?”

Jinyoung gapes before he gets up eagerly.  “If that’s what you want…” and flips Yugyeom over.


End file.
